


Glowing (Of Kites and Lines)

by Kratsayra



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Faceless Arya, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Jon Snow is Not Called Aegon, Not Beta Read
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-07
Updated: 2019-09-07
Packaged: 2020-08-11 03:14:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20146675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kratsayra/pseuds/Kratsayra
Summary: She was the kite and I was the line. She was a creature of the clouds and I was a creature of the earth. Wthout me she’d become untethered and she would float away…And then without her, I would just crash, just drop right down to the ground.





	1. Chapter 1

They were set to leave port three days ago, but the seas had begun so rough, none had dared to attempt it. The delay did not bother Aegon though, be had taken to wandering the streets of Bravos on his own, a luxury he hadn't had since learning of his birth.

Jon had stayed with the Golden Company, planning for their passage across the sea. And neither Lemore nor Duck had put a stop to his escapades.

The narrow, paved streets of Braavos were wet with morning rain, and Aegon ducked and dodged away from traders and fishmongers pushing bulky carts piled with their wares. He whistled cheerily, making his way along the canals to the tavern he had discovered only yesterday.

A quiet but bright place that seemed to always be full of locals and exotic travelers alike. There had been four traders from Westeros yesterday (Oldtown, they'd said), and they had had stories to tell. Aside from them there were a trio of merchants with skin as dark as onyx and wearing enough gold to rival the Golden Company; and individuals from all over the continent, some he recognized by the accents and clothes, others he guessed.

He had sat at the tables and conjured up stories about their origins and where they were headed, enjoying the absurd backgrounds he cooked up for all the peculiar ones, and sat nursing his mug of ale all evening yesterday.

Okay, maybe he hadn't returned only for the patrons. The quiet, nearly invisible tavern wench had caught his eye, and his attention more than a few times, and Aegon hoped she would be there today.

With dark curly hair that barely reached her shoulders, and dark eyes to match, she wasn't really a great beauty, a bit too young and skinny for that, but he had not been able to stop looking at her.

Aegon had been careful not to be caught staring openly, but every time she took a round of the room, refilling the mugs of ale, his eyes had followed her from under his lashes.

The tavern was bustling with people today, and Aegon was lucky to find a spot with good vantage of the establishment. Although he was sorely disappointed when a busty red head came to take his order.

He wolfed down the serving of meatloaf the red head brought along with his ale, and listened to the stories of the dragon queen in Meereen. His aunt, his bride to be, but not yet. For now he was still Griff of Tyrosh, with blue hair and a sellsword army.

"Do you have something for me girl?" A richly dressed Quarthi asked. And Aegon turned to find _her_.

"Yes, the docks. When the moon comes." She hadn't spoken it out loud, but Aegon was watching her so closely, he could read her lips.

Her eyes turned away from the Quarthi to look directly into his. And Aegon couldn't help but blush at being caught staring so blatantly.

"I'll be there," came the reply, and Aegon felt his gut clench with jealously.

_No, she's mine! _

"Just so," she replied, her eyes still locked with his.

_Gods, she would be the end of him._

The day had darkened, the moon peeking between dark clouds, and Aegon hurried to the docks.

He didn't care if he was being foolish, the wench was obviously toying with him.

He was nearly there when someone grabbed him by the arm and pushed up against the wall of the dark alley with enough force to knock the air out of him.

He could feel the cold sting of a blade against his throat. "You are either very foolish, or up to no good, my lord," her voice hissed at him.

"Both, darling," he said feeling no threat despite the blade against his throat. Maybe he was just really stupid.

The blade pushed against his skin a bit harder, and she bought her face closer, the moonlight glinting off her grey eyes, but she stood nearly a foot lower than him. "I could kill you here, and they would find your body half eaten by fish."

Well it seemed her tastes ran into the macabre.

"You called me here," he said placating.

"No, a man thought he would get what he wanted if her came here."

_Well that was true... _

"And what is that?"

The blade against his throat relaxed. "I've seen you watch me. I know that look that men have when they think they want something, and all they need to do is to reach out and take it, the world be damned."

"Is that what you think I want?" His eyes bore into hers, searching for something, anything to explain why he was so captivated by the wench.

"You want to fuck me."

"Yes" Despite himself, Aegon couldn't deny the truth.

"It's that what you think? That I'm a whore who sells her body to every blue haired sellsword I come upon."

"That's not-"

The finger she placed on his lips silenced him instantly. "That is what you thought of the Quarthi meeting me here. But it makes no matter what you think of me," she leaned away from him, eyes studying him appreciatively.

"Come" She said finally, the corners of her mouth curving into a secret smile, and his heart jumped in his chest. She took his hand leading him away in to another alley.

Aegon followed her deeper and deeper into the darkened alleys, his heart thumping loudly, he was sure she could hear.

Finally she came to a halt besides an old two story building, ducking inside awning and up the pitch black stairs.

She could be leading him to an elaborate death, Aegon thought and tightened his grip on her hand. She halted inside a dark room, letting go of his hand to light the single candle on the table.

Aegon looked around the suddenly bright room, trying to piece together the woman in front of him, but aside from the thin straw mattress on the bed, the room was bare.

"Who are you?" He asked needing to know.

"Lya," she answered and kissed him, her arms going around his neck. And Aegon kissed her back fervently, she tasted of spiced wine which made his head spin.

His hands fumbled with the laces of her gown, just as hers reached for the hem of his tunic, pulling it off him. Her gown fell to the floor in a soft rush of fabric, and Aegon claimed her lips again.

Lya bit his bottom lip and Aegon gasped, his hands grabbing her ass through the shift she still wore. His tongue found hers, and her fingers feathered over his chest, blunt nails scraping against his nipples. Whatever control he had, he lost it then.

Moaning in her mouth, he pushed her back into the wall, breath knocked out of her, but it didn't slow her down. She kissed his lips and down her way to his jaw and neck, her sharp teeth nipping the skin before her tongue soothed away the sting.

Aegon let a frustrated growl, his fingers knead the flesh of her hips, waiting for her little game to end. But she wasn't done yet.

Lya placed wet open mouth kisses on his chest, flicking his nipples with her tongue before moving lower down his abdomen, her pink tongue leaving a wet trail down to the waist of his breeches.

Making quick work of the laces of his breeches, Lya got on her knees and pulled out his cock, exploring with her fingers and then her tongue. Aegon was too far gone to stop now, so he let her take him in her mouth, guiding her head into place.

He leaned back against the table, knocking the candle down which blew off and rolled away, throwing the room in darkness, save for the scarce moonlight. Lya didn't even seem to notice.

She struggled with taking him completely into her mouth, which only served to inflame him more, so Aegon held the back of her head and set the pace, slowly going deeper into her mouth, instructing her with every sharp intake of breath, every jump of muscle on his stomach.

He could almost believe she had never done this before. The limit to his control finally pushed him to pull back from her deliciously warm mouth with a pop, and she looked up at him in confusion, her dark grey eyes wide and guileless.

_This woman would damn him. _

"My turn," he grunted in response, picking her up and pulling the shift over her head before laying her on the bed and gods, she was beautiful.

His mouth latched on to one nipple, pinching the other one between hits thumb and forefinger until she whimpered. He sucked and teased it with his tongue, while he pinched and rolled the other, then switched his attention between them.

His eyes watched her, every reaction, every whimper was a reward and damn if she wasn't responsive.

"I could make you come like this, would you like that sweet Lya?"

She chocked back a whimper, "_Please_," her hips arched, begging for what she couldn't say herself.

"Please, what?"

She cursed, in Braavosi and the Common tongue, but succumbed to her need. Covering her face with her hand she moaned, "_Fuck_, touch me please!"

And he did, his calloused fingers parting the drenched folds, and sliding up her slit. "Gods you're soaking." He could smell her, a heady scent, that clung to her skin and his fingers.

Lua moaned in need and then nearly arched off the bed when her found her clit, rubbing it in quick circles that brought her to a sudden crest.

She came hard, her eyes screwed shut, rubbing her pussy against his fingers and palm as she rode the waves to the end.

At his limits, Aegon climbed on top of her, positioning himself he found little resistance when he entered her, although she stiffened almost immediately.

Her voice was strained when she begged, "Gods, fuck me already."

Hesitantly Aegon withdrew and thrust into her slowly at first, before increasing his pace. It was finally her low moan that encouraged him to pick up the pace.

He pulled her legs around his hips and pounded her pussy, going deeper with every thrust. He couldn't believe how incredibly snug she was around him, which made it even harder to control himself.

The bed shook with each thrust, protesting with a rhythmic creak, Aegon rolled his hips and smiled smugly when he heard her gasp.

He gathered her in his arms and pounded in her, the smack of flesh loud and obscene in the dark room, but it drove them higher until Lya cried out and bit his shoulder, coming undone around his cock.

The muscles of her pussy nearly drove him off the edge but Aegon had preserved some sense and pulled out before he spilled inside her. And instead squirted his cum on her stomach and breasts.

After, he pulled her in his arms, his fingers unconsciously rubbing his semen on to her skin.

"Who are you?" She mirrored his question.

"Griff of Tyrosh" he answered, kissing the back of her neck before he drifted off to sleep.

When he awoke in the morning, she was gone.

And she had left her maidenhead as payment.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You knocked me sideways  
When you said that you were leaving.  
It knocked me over  
When you cried and told the truth.  
And it left me speechless  
The secrets you've been keeping  
You're running now, 'cause someone's chasing you

The girl was good, he had to give her that. She took him in her mouth whole, swallowing his length with expertise, her tongue working in symphony to bring him to completion.

He choked out a groan and painted her mouth with his seed, and she lapped up every last bit. He patted her dark head indicating for her to let go, and she released him reluctantly. Maybe he would ask for her again tomorrow, but now that he was spent and the haze of lust had cleared enough to see her pale face with freckles splashed across her nose, he wanted her gone. She dutifully pulled on her gown and left quietly.

Aegon laced his breeches and put off the lamps before he threw himself on the cot that was his bed on the road. Jon hated that he brought a new girl to his tent every night, but he had not stopped it. Aegon only ever took their mouths, likely some kind of perverse obsession he had developed. _She_ had fucked with his head, he knew, and pushed the thought out of his head as soon as it came. It wouldn't do for him to be hung up on some Braavosi wench, not now.

They had taken High Garden six moons ago after they had destroyed the Tyrell army at Storm's End. Immediately they had turned their attention to Horn Hill, wary of Lord Tarly. But there was no cause to fret, the Tarlys were loyal to House Targaryen, and when Aegon proved his birth, Randyll Tarly had taken the knee immediately. Aegon had named him Lord Paramount of the Reach and accepted his wisdom in striking Kings Landing while the strength of throne was unstable. 

They were marching to King's Landing now, nearly two years since they had left Braavos. He needed to focus at the task at hand, he _was_ going to have justice for his slaughtered family, and restore his House back to the iron throne. 

***

He blinked the sleep form his eyes, trying to adjust to the darkness engulfing him. He must have dozed off, but something had woken him now. With a sharp intake of breath, he realized something cold and metallic was pressed against his jugular, he saw the dark silhouette of the arm that held the blade there, then up the dark figure bent over him, straddling his hips. 

Before he even registered the threat, his body was already twisting away, hitting the hand that held the blade so it fell with a thud on the ground as he delivered a punch to the chest. It was soft, like a woman's and his hand instinctively groped there, to make sure of it. His palm squeezed around a soft, round breast and there was a sharp gasp from the assassin. 

_Bloody hell._

He heard the crack of his nose before he felt the pain and cursed loudly before twisting and rolling them both off the bed. The woman struggled, squirming out from under him like an eel, already on her feet, before he grabbed her ankle and pulled her down.

_Not so fast_.

She struggled to her feet, kicking him in the chest before the sword pointing at her neck stilled her. Duck indicated for her to get up, the lamp in his hand throwing light on her face finally. 

_Lya_. 

Aegon stared dumbfounded, she looked older, more womanly and his hand reached out towards her unconsciously before he stopped himself. She had been about to slit his throat a few minutes ago.

Other guards were rushing in, kicking her to her knees before they bound her wrists and ankles. Duck helped him to his feet, pushing a towel to his bleeding nose before he inspected him for any wounds.

"I'm fine." Aegon pushed him away, his voice muffled by the towel. His eyes had not left her, but she was looking down, staring at the rugs blankly. She was dressed in boy's clothing, tan breeches and a plain white tunic, her hair was tied back in a severe knot. He flexed his hand, the ghost of her breast in his grasp made his skin itch.

They pulled her to her feet and she finally looked at him, but there was no recognition, her eyes were blank. Had she forgotten him? They put a bag over her head and took her away, and Aegon still stared at the flap of his tent lightheaded.

"You're losing too much blood, I'll get Haldon." Duck said and left him to himself.

***

He knew where they kept her, it’s a tent in the middle of camp where the guards keep watch. He hovered around it, not sure if he was more afraid she's going to look at him blankly again or if she would recognize him. When he sees Jon duck inside the tent, he follows, he needs to _know_.

"Who are you?"

She doesn't answer, staring at the ground petulantly. 

"Who sent you?"

The lack of a reply irritated Jon. "Why did you want to kill the King?"

"A girl was given a name," she said and looked up at Aegon finally. His stomach clenched. The faceless men. 

Jon's eyes burned with recognition, and he stood up in anger. "Who hired you?!" his voice shook.

"He of many faces. Valar Morghulis."

_Valar Dohaeris_, Aegon thought.

***

"Execute the assassin, what the bloody hell is wrong with you?!" Jon was shouting after Aegon had told him he meant to keep the faceless girl alive until they reached King's Landing. He would determine her fate once they took the castle. "She could escape the guards and attempt to finish what she couldn't last night! Do you not know what these people are capable of?"

Aegon pinched the bridge of his nose and resisted the urge to reach for a glass of wine. "I am well aware. I need to find out who sent her. What makes you think it stops with her? They will send another one to take her place."

Had she been on to him from the start? Had she bedded him hoping to put down his guard? To slit his throat while he slept? The sweet girl who had given him her maidenhead?

Had she really, or was the blood a trick they taught her at the House of Black and White? The thought ate at him, making him so angry.

"It is a very dangerous game they are playing, the faceless men," Jon warned him, suddenly wary. "She's wearing _her_ face, it's a sick joke. But _how_...?"

Aegon looked at Jon confused. "What face?"

"The face of Lyanna Stark."

***

Aegon took the wooden chair and placed it in front of her, then seated himself on it, looking down. She was curled on the floor, her hands bound behind her to the post holding up the tent, her ankles fettered with iron. She wore the same garb she had three nights ago in his tent, and he idly wondered if she was cold, immediately pushing the thought out of his mind. She would not hesitate to kill him right now, and it wouldn't do to worry if his assassin was comfortable or not.

She looked up at him through her long lashes, and Aegon wondered how he ever thought she wasn't beautiful. She was utterly captivating, even with her face set in a scowl and her eyes glaring at him. Captivating and deadly, just like Lyanna Stark.

"What's your name?" That shouldn't have been his first question, but he asks anyway. Of course, it wasn’t Lya, he could see now, she had chosen the name, the face, all of it was a carefully laid out plan.

"If I tell you, will you untie my hands?"

"No."

She sighed and looked away, pointedly ignoring him. _Damnable chit_.

"Why do you want to kill me?" he asked finally.

"If I did, you would already be dead."

His heartbeat is loud in his ears as he stood up, and bent over her, bringing his face close until she backs up. "I trust you far lesser than I would trust a thief with my crown."

He leaves her tent, his skin prickling in anger. It seemed like there would be no one he _could_ trust as long as he was king.

***

A fortnight later they make camp outside Castle Ashford. Aegon's remaining forces that had hung back at Summerhall had already arrived and set up camp there, The Targaryen banner flying high in the wind. The Sun of Martell and Tarly's Huntsman flew alongside the three headed Dragon banners, and all around him men from the Reach, Stormlands and Dorne were camped. The men seemed happy, calling out to him and singing raucously around their camp fires. He supposed he could not grudge them a little celebration.

Aegon drank with them, listening to them share stories of battle and bedding. Jon disliked it, but even he knew that it was important for Aegon to be liked by his men, to secure their respect and loyalty. 

When all the bawdy tales had been told, and the men were well into their cups, Aegon left the fires and headed back to the castle, where chambers had been prepared for him. A small crowd had gathered around the fire and Aegon went to see what was causing the commotion. The men had formed a circle and in the centre was a guard with his face in the dirt, his own Braavosi assassin had him in a deadlock, and the man was gasping for breath as he slapped her thigh in an indication to let him go. When she laughed, Aegon stared.

"Told you I could beat your lousy ass with my hands tied," she said smugly. The men cheered and catcalled, giving each other heated looks. And all Aegon could see was the way her thighs straddled the guard's back, her breeches defining the curve of her slim legs and ass like sin. 

He was pushing past the circle of men before he knew it, grabbing her arm and pulling her to her feet roughly. She stumbled on the fetters around her ankles when he dragged her to the tent, not caring what it looked like to his men. 

"Stop." she demanded stumbling again and Aegon ignored her. He pushed her inside and secured her hands to the post, as she glared at him angrily. 

He left her there and when he came out the crowd had dispersed, only her guards stood there, fidgeting with their spears and avoiding his furious gaze. 

"You are here to guard her, not fraternize. I want you all out tomorrow morning, there will be new guards to take your places. Now keep her inside and mind your duty!" He's turning to go when he hears her call out.

"This would be so much easier if you just killed me. Why are you dragging me across the country?!"

Against his better judgement, he ducked inside the tent again. She stood, back against the post, her hands secured tightly behind her, but her chin lifted defiantly. "If you cause any more trouble, I'll lock you up in the cage with the other prisoners." But he already knew he wouldn't, the cage disgusted him, the men inside, even more so. 

"Then why don't you?" she sneered.

Aegon stepped close to her, so close he could feel her nipples harden against his chest. His hand itched to cup the mounds, but he stayed himself, then gave up and pressed himself fully against her. She gasped, grey eyes looking up at him through those damn eyelashes. What kind of assassin looked so damn pretty? _The deadliest,_ a voice in his head told him but he ignored it and closed his mouth over hers in a kiss.

He was surprised when she kissed him back, not able to do much more than return the kiss with her hands trapped behind her back. Aegon softened the kiss, coaxing her for more till she let him into her mouth, his hands came to the back of her head, his thumbs smoothing over her jaw until she relaxed. 

So sweet, and he wanted so much more. His erection prodded at her belly and she mewled in his mouth. Damn wench.

He pulled away suddenly, remembering why she was here in the first place. Her eyes were wide as she stared at him, her lips swollen and red from his attentions and looking entirely too tempting. Did Lyanna Stark look at his father that way?

Aegon stepped back from her as if burned, and fled into the night like a damned coward.

***

"Cersei has pulled back the entire royal army to King's Landing, even the royal navy sits on Blackwater Bay, expecting our attack anytime now." Randyll Tarly is a battle-hardened man, and the council listens to him as he proposes their next step. 

"We cannot hope to win at sea, the Redwyne fleet is but a skeleton of what it was and Cersei’s new dromonds are ready for battle." Jon cautions.

They had gone on all afternoon, and Aegon felt a headache coming on. "What of the tunnels that lead from Blackwater Rush into Aegon's Hill?" he asks.

Jon considers it. "They will expect us. We cannot depend on secrecy there."

"We should have marched to King's Landing as soon as we took Storm's End. They had too much time to prepare for us." Lord Estermont said.

Then the bickering began. How they should have done something, what could have changed, and Aegon had had enough.

He adjourned the meeting and poured himself a glass of wine. Randyll Tarly hung back, watching him closely and Aegon wondered if his Lord Paramount would need more proof of his capabilities.

"Connington told me about one of the Faceless Men attacking you, your grace," Lord Tarly said. "I heard she is quite the charmer if my men are to be believed." His sharp eyes were on him, gauging all movements he made.

Aegon ground his teeth, he didn't have to explain himself to anyone. "She will stand trial once I have King's Landing. I need to know who sent her and why."

"The dungeons at Horn Hill-"

"I will not hear any more of it until we have the capital, my lord. Now let us rest, we have a long hard ride tomorrow." Aegon made to leave.

"Rhaegar took Lyanna Stark and he damned the world for it. You should know that better than most."

Aegon opened the flap and ducked out. He was not his father, and she was not Lyanna Stark. And the world was already damned.

He found himself walking to towards her tent unconsciously. It was a dangerous game he was playing at. She was not his captive, she was a deadly assassin, who had been paid to kill him. Probably to seduce him first. Despite all that, he lifted the flap of her tent and slipped inside.

She was sitting on the rushes, her chin resting on her knees, her bound hands lay were wrapped around her folded legs to keep warm, and something in his chest hurt.

She lifted her chin and looked at him warily. After he had kissed her a week ago, he had not dared to visit her again. Yet now here he was, pulling a chair to sit in front of her and taking her hands before rope binding her her wrist and let it drop to the floor.

She looked up at him curiously. "Your name," he reminded her.

"Arya." her voice was low, barely a whisper.

"Arya" he tasted the name on his tongue, it rolled off smoothly almost a pray.

"Is this your face?" What a stupid question, but her needed to know. If the girl who haunted his dreams was real, or just a mask, a ghost of his father’s past.

She studied him quietly for a moment. "Yes."

_Gods help him._

He leaned down and tipped her chin up, studying her in the light of the lamp. "They want me to execute you, or throw you in the dungeon till you're ready to give them the information they want."

She looked at him unflinchingly. "Then why don't you?"

He let go of her chin and looked away. "I don't know. They are telling me everything. What I should do, what I should have done. It's a never ceasing cacophony of advice. They call me king, but they would prefer a mummer instead."

He knows his face must reflect the surprise he felt from revealing some of his inner most thoughts to this girl, an assassin of the Many-faced God.

"Why be King, if you hate it so much? Go back to Essos and live the life you want."

"I cannot." He stares blankly at the cloth of the tent, his mind far away. "Amory Lorch murdered my sister, a girl of three, stabbing her over and over again till she wasn't screaming anymore. Gregor Clegane made my mother watch as he smashed the head of the babe who replaced me, then raped her and crushed her skull in. I cannot go back. I _must_ have my revenge. I _will_ have my revenge. They will pay for what they did and I will restore my House to its rightful place."

"I understand." her voice jarred him to the present. She had a faraway look in her eye, and he wondered what demons haunted her. 

"You do? Then you're the only one." 

She came to her knees and suddenly her mouth crashed against his. Aegon curled his arm around her back, pulling her close. Her fingers ran through his hair, and Aegon let his squeeze her bottom. She pulled back and put her fettered feet before him, and though he called himself a twice damned fool, he did not hesitate before he turned the key and let the iron fall to the ground with a thud that resonated in his chest.

She climbed his lap almost immediately, her tunic coming off in a quick, smooth motion. Her fingers slipped under his own tunic, smoothing over his chest and stomach. With a soft whisper of fabric his tunic came off too.

Her mouth was back on his and Aegon met her tongue with his eagerly. Her breasts pressed against him, curves softer than he remembered, searing his skin, branding him forever. 

"Arya..." he groaned, her name rolling off naturally. Her fingers slipped inside his breeches, palming his cock with her small hands. 

"Say it again," she whispered in his ear, biting down on the lobe, and he did, repeating it like a pray when she took him out of his breeches and pumped her hand around him till he was so hard and his breaths were small gasps.

She climbed down from his lap and he almost protested, but she shimmied out of her breeches and straddled him again. Aegon stared at her slit which was just as smooth and hairless as her legs. Like some of those Braavosi courtesans he's heard of. He gulps and wonders what she had been doing these past two years, but then all thoughts leave his mind when she takes hold of his length, and teases her wet slit with it. Her mouth is open in a gasp and he can only watch in fascination. 

The muscles of her thighs and stomach quiver and she rubs his head over that sweet spot again and Aegon moans with her this time. Then she takes him inside her, thrusting down on him hard so he's buried inside her wet heat immediately.

His arms go around her, holding her close as she sets the pace, slow, then faster as the pleasure builds. She clings to him, brow wet with perspiration and Aegon is thrusting up to meet her. They find a rhythm that pushes them frantically, chasing the peak they both crave. His face is buried in her neck and the smell of her is intoxicating, poisoning his blood, muddling his mind. _His Arya_. 

He comes in her, and her groan signals her own peak triggered by his. 

***

Two years since the day he left Braavos he standing in front of the Iron Gates on the South West wall of King's Landing. His army stands behind him, twenty-five thousand shields and spears, siege towers and trebuchets armed and ready. The air is stifling, and his stallion snorts restlessly. 

_I'm here finally_, he thinks, but it brings him no joy.

Nothing much brought him joy anymore, not since he had woken up to find Arya gone, the morning after she had made love to him. It shouldn't have surprised him; it wasn't the first time either. He just wasn't ready for the rage that took him, at her, at the guards that were supposed to be watching her, at himself.

He doubted anything could have kept her there, the fetters certainly had not, nor the three guards he'd punished in a fit of rage. She could have slipped off anytime, she had just chosen to stay and humour them. Damn wench.

He couldn't send out a search party for her, not when they were so close to King's Landing and on the eve of battle. Jon had been furious when he learnt she had slipped away, calling him a fool. Then he learnt her name and he had frozen like the gargoyles on Dragonstone.

Arya Stark. _Seven fucking hells._

The gods were cruel, but she was more so. Now he stood in front of the gates of his rightful home and felt like he's left something behind instead.

The high tinkling of the city bells gave everyone a pause, and Aegon frowned and glanced at Duck. The Iron Gates were thrown open and Mace Tyrell rode out, a squire rode out with him, holding a white banner in his hands.

"Halt!" Lord Tarly called out and Mace brought his white horse to an abrupt stop. His voice rang out loud and clear. “Queen Cersei is dead! King's Landing is yours, your grace!"

Then he got off his horse and knelt in the dirt. 

As Aegon watched, the men around him took to their knees and the shouts were deafening as they all chorused: "Hail King Aegon, long may he reign!"

"Long may he reign!"

Aegon looked towards the red city that smelled of shit, bells still going off in the deep, and knew this was all _her _doing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's been a long while, so here's an extra long chapter for you guys.
> 
> I've changed the name because, well this song is in my head and it just makes me think of this pairing so much like  
Go check it out, here's the lyric video I've linked: https://youtu.be/P9PKGVp8rrc
> 
> I really struggled with this chapter, so if you like it please leave a comment. Thanks!

**Author's Note:**

> Forgive the errors, I wrote this on my phone at night instead of sleeping and autocorrect took over.


End file.
